The Unedited Diary of a Crazed Muggleborn Bookworm
by FaTcAtInAhAt
Summary: I, Hermione Granger, am emotionally unstable. Uh, whatever that means. Includes an over imaginative Hermione, a homicidal Malfoy, and Book, a journal that bites back. Literally. Or so Hermione believes. NEW CHAPTER FINALLY UP!
1. How to be Insane

**The Uncensored, Unedited, Unpredictable Diary of a Crazed Muggleborn Bookworm**

**Chapter One- How to Be Insane**

**How to be Insane: A Four Step Program to Reaching Your Goal of Ultimate Insanity**

**By: Hermione Granger**

**Step One**

Never, ever say anything that anyone with half a brain cell can understand. Use big words. _Lots _of them.

**Step Two**

Ask Harry for advice. _All_ the time. Be sure to watch him carefully, because he is the epitome of insanity.

**Step Three**

If anyone asks what you're doing watching Harry so closely, be sure to follow step one. Include the term "PMS" if it is a guy.

**Step Four**

If step one fails at any point in time, wave your wand around foolishly, mumble some random words, and burst into tears. It works every time.

---

12:20 A.M.

Yes, I have been announced officially insane by the entire Weasley family. Although, I do not obsess over the welfare of potatoes, like Harry, so I do _not _understand why I am being categorized as "insane."

It might, _possibly_, have something to do with what happened today. Though, if you ask me, it was not an _insane _thing to do.

Alright, so I had a little... explosion. I was _only _testing out Step Four of my program. Not that Step One failed or anything, because I _was _talking to Ron, so anything with more than four letters is a big word to him, but I just wanted to see what everyone's reaction would be.

How was I supposed to know that they would rush me to St. Mungo's thinking that I had been cursed?

Okay, so maybe I was trying to use _all _of my steps at the same time, but Ron had been asking me why I was watching Harry and calling him, Ron that is, an "egotistical dunderhead" did not have the effect I wanted (I admit, it was not that creative of me). So I, casually of course, mentioned the term "PMS." Ron had not, however, run away.

So I _had _to resort to Step Four, it was my only option.

But now I am being forced to write in this... _journal _(and be sure to know that I write that word with venom on my... erm... quill)to sort out my "emotional issues" before I can be released from St. Mungo's. Now, it is well past the time I would usually be going to bed, but I don't care. I am being held against my will and it, for lack of a better term, sucks arse.

It does not help that the person in the room next to me likes to _talk _in their sleep. About killing people.

Not just any people though, "Mudbloods."

Wouldn't he just _love _to hear that there is one in the room beside him?

It doesn't matter anyway, I plan on getting out tomorrow anyone, once my "counselor" has reviewed all I've written down. Once he understands that this is a silly misunderstanding, he will be sure to let me go.

11:47 A.M.

Okay, so maybe I was wrong. The policy here at the St. Mungo's ward for the "emotionally unstable" is that all patients must be reviewed for a minimum of ten days before they can be considered for release.

And, apparently, I am no exception.

My "counselor," Dr. Princely, says that I have some "emotional issues that must be dealt with." I disagree. _Harry_ is the one with "emotional issues that need to be dealt with," not me.

So what if Mrs. Weasley says that yesterday was not the first time this has happened, it does not make me "emotionally unstable." Now, if I were to obsess over the welfare of potatoes, like a certain world-saving-Wizard I know, then _maybe _I would agree with that diagnosis. But just because I have invented a four step program to help myself become insane does not _make _me insane.

Truthfully, those four steps were only invented for my amusement. It's not as if I was planning on writing an entire book on how to be insane in only four steps. I could possibly see _Harry _writing a book like that, but not me. Hell, I could even see _Ron _writing a book like that.

Ha. Ron writing a book, now that's a riot. As if Ron could ever write one _sentence _on his own, let alone a whole entire book! I would become friends with "Mr. I-Want-To-Kill-All-Mudbloods" in the room beside me before Ron would write a book.

Oh, listen to that. He's just gone into a rant. How lovely. So many words that could inspire Ronald.

Wait... he's throwing something against the wall. Wow, I never knew someone could throw something so hard. There is now a _dent _in the wall.

That's just bloody great. I can't wait to hea—

4:12 P.M.

So, as I was being rushed out of my room by some security guards, I saw who my neighbor was.

You're not going to believe this one. I mean, _I _was shocked by who it turned out to be.

I seriously had thought that he would end up being some maniac I had never met or heard of. But I was completely wrong.

Really, I'd love to tell you, but I'm afraid that the shock could possibly kill you. Rather, make you tear yourself apart.

Do you think you will be able to handle it?

Oh. My. God.

I am talking to a _book_. I might _love _books, but I do not _talk _to them! That is not something a sane person does!

For the moment, I am going to drop the fact that I was actually expecting you to answer me back.

The person that was in the room next to me was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Don't you stare blankly at me like that like you knew all along that it was him. Because you did not know. You're a book. There is no possible way that you knew that Draco Malfoy was residing in the room next to me, unless...

You've got a lot of explaining to do, Book! Yes, that is your official name as of now. Book! Deal with it.

As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me with your blank stare, I was rushed from my room because some thoughtless nurse decided that, when he asked her who the new occupier of the room next to him was, she actually answered. What ever happened to a patient's privacy?

Anyway, that's what caused his little tantrum, hence the dent in my old room's wall.

And the only other room available?

A room with white padded walls. Yeah, they put _me _here, not the one who has the _violent _tendencies. "Safety" my arse. The only way I can get out of this room is if someone lets me out. There is no doorknob on my side. So if Malfoy one day got loose, he would be able to get me, and I wouldn't be able to run.

Yeah, "safety."

I completely forgot to mention how they took away my wand, didn't I? Just in case you are too dimwitted to have figured that one out on your own, I thought it was worth mentioning.

You would probably also be interested to hear about the therapy I am being forced to go through. No _Harry_ does not have to endure therapy, I, _Hermione Granger_, do. For the first three days I have the pleasure of one-on-one therapy with my counselor. After that, group therapy. Not just _any _group therapy though, ­_co-ed _therapy. And yes, that would mean with _Draco Malfoy. _

Oh joy, I cannot wait for that. It will be the highlight of my life.

6:26 P.M.

Remind me to never, _ever _go to any meals again. The Dining Room is the equivalent of a high school cafeteria. No joke. Everything was split into groups. I, of course, was told by a supervisor that I should sit with the other "emotionally unstable" patients.

I know what you probably do not understand about the severity of this situation:

There was only one other person that was "emotionally unstable."

Who is... Draco Malfoy?

Yes, that would be the correct answer. Draco sodding Malfoy.

After finding no empty tables to sit at, my counselor came into the room and told me that, sadly, I had to sit with Malfoy. Because we had "issues to deal with."

Me, issues? Yeah right. I am not the one who _dented the wall_. I, of course, voiced these thoughts to him, but he only laughed in response, leading me away from a table with a group that I thought would be perfectly safe to sit with and to the table were a lone Malfoy sat. If it is possible to eat your food angrily, he was doing just that. So here I was, stuck sitting across from Draco Malfoy, the Angry Eater.

I have, as you may already know, read many articles in the _The Quibbler _about how Malfoy had been declared mentally insane and had been checked into a special ward at St. Mungo's. I had not, however, thought they were true stories. It was_ The Quibbler _after all.

Sitting across from him and not touching my dinner, which looked like _it _was angry, I thought back at the stories I had read, trying to remember what exactly he had done to get himself thrown in there. Of course, while I was thinking, I did not notice him suddenly look up at me. I also did not notice him say my name.

"Sodding Mudblood," I heard him mumble as I came out of my reverie.

"Shove off, Malfoy," I replied, poking my "soup" with the spoon I had been given.

"It's all your fault I'm here, you know," he continued in barely audible voice.

I looked up at him. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

His grey eyes blazed in an odd way. "Mud. Blood." He looked at me as if this made perfect sense.

"Uh, all right, Malfoy," I said. At that moment I remembered why he had been sent there (which I do not feel like discussing at this very moment).

The bell that signaled the end of dinner rang and I grabbed my tray quickly. Of course, Malfoy had _other _plans. He grabbed my hand, making me drop my tray back on the table. "Leave it," he told me before leaving his own tray on the table and sweeping out of the room.

I glared all the way back to this, my padded room. Where I found you lying on my pure white bed.

In all honesty, this room is too bright for me. If I do end up being insane at the end of these ten days, it will only be because I was forced to spend it in this room.

And I hope you, Mr. Princely, read this and agree that I am not insane. Because I'm not. I am probably the only sane person left in the world.

If you really need an insane person, get _Harry James Potter_.

He OBSESSES OVER THE WELFARE OF POTATOES.

I am NOT JOKING. Go look in his bedroom, he _built _a bed for them and tucks them in at night.

Oh, look, the nurse is telling me that I must go to my therapy session now. Oh joy. Oh rapture. Oh God, just kill me now.

9:00 P.M.

During my first pointless therapy session with Dr. Princely we discussed my childhood.

Alright, so maybe I was_ not _born in New York City. And _maybe _I was not raised by two illegal immigrants who were constantly on the move. And, _possibly_, I was not abandoned at the young age of seven and had to learn to fend for myself in a world of corruption.

I only embellished a _little._

Dr. Princely did not stop me as I ranted about the time I had to resort to prostitution at only nine years of age because I had no food. Nor did he say anything when I started talking about the rich family that adopted me because of my adorable red hair.

I thought that would get him to stop me, because that's all I wanted. But he did not seem to care that my hair was not red, but instead brown, and continued nodding and writing down occasionally.

I thought he would be sure to stop me when I explained that this family was the Malfoy family and that Draco became jealous of me because his mother loved me more than she loved him. But he didn't. Again, he did not stop me when I went on to completely skip the fact that I went to Hogwarts and started give details of the torrid love affair I started with Malfoy.

Finally, I had enough and sat up from my lounging position. "Well, what do you have to say about all of this?" I asked incredulously.

He just looked at me unsurely. "What do you mean?"

"Here I am, telling you the longest list of lies, and you are sitting there as if this were the truth."

"I feel that it is necessary, Ms. Granger," he said, "That I let you tell all the lies you want to tell me. The truth is sometimes buried in those lies."

"I was not born in America."

"I know that."

"I was never a prostitute."

"I know that."

"I never had red hair and never was adopted by the Malfoy's because of it."

"I know that also."

"You really are going to sit there and just listen to me _lie _to you?"

He nodded his head. Which, I forgot to mention, is bald. He is a round, but still tall, man; in his late-forties I'm guessing.

"And how is that supposed to help me?"

"You have an active imagination, Ms. Granger," he said, completely and utterly off topic if you ask me. "Maybe the only way I'll be able to get you to talk about the truth is to listen to your fabrications." He then shrugged. "Maybe not."

"What if this all turns out to be a waste of time?" I asked. "I'm not insane, you know."

You know what he did then? He _laughed_.

If you are reading this, Dr. Princely, which I know you are, I would like you to know that you are a JACKASS. A complete JACKASS.

On another note, I would like to add that you will never be able to cure me of my insanity, because I am _not _insane.

It was _only _an experiment.

Seriously, are we going to lock up _every _person that mumbles, brandishes their wand foolishly, and bursts into tears? No, we are not. If you really need to cure someone of insanity, go for HARRY JAMES POTTER.

As I have mentioned before, he OBSESSES OVER THE WELFARE OF POTATOES.

It's not that hard to realize who the _true _insane person is.

Book, stop giving me that look. _I _am not the insane one. You can go bother Harry, because I'm sure you can discuss how to take care of potatoes correctly.

Oh wait, I forgot. You're a BOOK, so you can't talk!

Yeah.

Screw you too.

4:03 A.M.

Here I am writing by the light of my... erm... walls, because someone had the bright idea to wake me up at two in the morning and scare me half to death.

Apparently, they do not _lock_ the door to Malfoy's room. I was, of course, woken up at two in the morning by Draco Malfoy. Who they did not hesitate to sedate once I screamed very, _very _shrilly.

Well, you too, Book, would scream too if you woke up to see a very pale blonde banging on your door. It was a very traumatizing experience, or so the nurses thought, and called in my counselor for an emergency therapy session.

And, again, I started with the lies.

I told of the dream I had (not) been having and how I woke up and say Malfoy standing over me with a knife, chanting, "Kill the Mudblood! Kill the Mudblood!" And how I bravely fought for my life with my bare hands. I was also sure to act it out, in detail. I even added in a little part where everything went in slow motion and I barely avoided the knife by bending backwards.

This story, in my mind, ended with tragedy. Well, not really. Malfoy dying would not really be a tragedy. I told the weary looking Dr. Princely this and he wrote it down on.

I eventually ended it by saying that I ran out of the room and found a security guard who fell madly in love with me at first glance and threw himself in front of a flying knife at the last second, sacrificing himself for me. I did not forget to mention the fact that Malfoy looked very much like a monkey as he threw the knife.

Then, as revenge for him killing the one man I loved, I took the bloody knife out of the security guard's body and threw it back at Malfoy.

I realize now that that is what I _really _would like to do, throw a knife at Malfoy. I can only imagine the girly scream that would come from his mouth!

You know it would be funny, Book. Admit it.

Anyway, Dr. Princely did not seem to be bothered by the fact that he was woken up at two in the morning only to hear more lies, and listened intently as I told how the knife only flew past Malfoy's ear and he continued raging towards me.

Alright, so the next part in the story I only added because I was getting extremely tired.

So I admit, maybe telling him that I somehow killed Malfoy with my bare hands was not the greatest idea I've ever had. Because the next thing I knew, I was being hauled away by two security guards in white suits back to my padded wall room, locking the door behind me.

And back to you, my journal.

Book, I hope that you realize it is vitally important that I am writing in you. You are my only means of conveying my life of "insanity" to the outside world. Although, I will probably be dead when anyone wastes their time to read you, but still.

Oh. My. God.

Book, you must stop giving me that incredulous look. I am only putting my life into your ha— I mean _pages_.

8:09 A.M.

Eight o'clock in the morning and I am being forced to attend breakfast. Yesterday I did not have to attend, but today it's _mandatory_. I told the nurse she can go stuff "mandatory breakfast" up her arse.

Which might not have been the brightest idea, because she is the one who controls the sedatives.

So I'm up, in the Dining Hall, and sitting across from a _much_ disheveled looking Malfoy. He either doesn't remember what happened last night, or is planning on jumping across the table and killing me. I really hope it is the latter one, because I can't stand this place any longer.

I truly do not understand how the Weasleys could do this to me, I am _perfectly _sane!

As I have mentioned _many _times, I do not OBSESS OVER THE WELFARE OF POTATOES. Like Harry James Potter.

If you, Dr. Princely, have not gotten the hint by now, I hate you. I want you, after you have read this entry, to come and explain to me why I am considered insane. I really want to know.

I am not the one mumbling about _killing _"Mudbloods" in my sleep. I am not the one who dented the wall. I can see why you are holding _Draco Malfoy, _wall-denter and wannabe murderer, but why _me?_

Book agrees with me, I believe. Although, Book might be doing things for his or her own personal gain, but who's to blame a book for being a selfish pri— it bit me! Book BIT me!

Okay, so maybe there is a _slight_ possibility that I am insane.

---

**Author's Note:** This story should not be taken seriously by anyone. It is one of those stories that is just like... _there_. To me, it's funny; to you... who knows? If you find it funny, YAY! If you don't, I do not blame you. It's stupid. Chapter two is already started, but I will only be writing it when I need to stop from the seriousness of all my other stories.

If you find the need to whack me over the head because this story is so pointless, please do. If you find the need to review, same thing. :Shrug: Both are understandable reactions to reading this chapter.

Leii.


	2. How NOT to be Insane

**The Uncensored, Unedited, Unpredictable Diary of a Crazed Muggleborn Bookworm**

**Chapter Two- How NOT to be Insane**

**How NOT to be Insane: A Four Step Program to Reaching Your Goal of Becoming Utterly Un-Insane**

**By: Hermione Granger**

**Step One**

Once you have been locked in a room with no windows, be sure to calmly write in your journal whenever you feel the need to lash out. Find it completely normal if you start talking to said journal; just don't throw it at the wall in hopes of causing a dent. Especially if you were put in a room with paddedwalls. All you'll get out of it is a loud _thump_ and another visit from your counselor.

**Step Two**

When at your first group therapy session, be sure to be strangled at least _once _by Draco Malfoy for being a "Mudblood." If not only to get yourself killed, but in hopes of him getting sentenced to another ten years in the St. Mungo's ward for the "emotionally unstable."

**Step Three**

When your counselor asks you why you were laughing while Malfoy was strangling you instead of trying to stop him, be sure to answer with your full vocabulary. Include both big words _and_ four-letter words.

**Step Four**

When all else fails mumble random words, move your arms around foolishly, and burst into tears. Hope that the same thing that got you into this mess will get you _out _of this mess.

---

Too Late or Too Early

I never said that I was a good person to get advice from. All four steps did not go as planned; Step Four just made things worse.

Okay, so it was really stupid of me to believe that I could get _out _of a ward that specializes in the treatment of the "mentally unstable" by acting, well, _mentally unstable_. It is probably the second dumbest thing I've ever done, the first being, of course, how I got myself _sent _here (which, coincidentally, are the same action).

This was my fourth day here at St. Mungo's, and I still have not heard anything from those who sent me here. Group therapy, as you may have heard me ranting about, was strangely fun. I enjoyed listening to everyone else's problems. Specifically, Malfoy's.

Apparently, he has many fears, which the group counselor just had to tell us all. One fear, amusingly, is that he cannot stand inanimate objects. He blames them for everything, according to the counselor, whose name I cannot remember at all.

Of course, laughing after Malfoy told us the story of how he tripped over an edge of the carpet one time and went into a fit of rage was not the wisest thing in the world. But, hey, it got me out of group therapy early. And, as an added bonus, it got him in trouble.

Here's how it went down:

"—and I just could not control myself," said Malfoy (I can't remember what exactly he said before, so I'll just jump in to when I was just about to start laughing). "I pulled the carpet up and lit it on fire. I was glad to see the stupid, clumsy bastard burn to ashes."

This is where I started laughing. And also where Malfoy launched himself across the room and puts his hands around my throat to strangle me. Only half of me was actually hoping he would succeed, though. The other half was attempting to laugh at the situation.

Because that's when it all hit me. I was in a _mental facility_. With _Draco Malfoy_. I was diagnosed _insane_.

Truthfully, I do not exactly disagree with this diagnosis anymore. I actually am starting to agree fully with it.

I mean, I imagined you, Book, had bit me. Dr. Princely, however, tells me I must have bit myself, because you are in inanimate object and cannot bite people.

But I'm not too sure. I still don't fully trust you. I mean, I have this bit mark on my right hand that does not match my teeth (I checked), and I swear I remember you jumping upwards and snapping shut on my hand.

Of course, I _am _considered mentally insane, so I guess I am not the most reliable source.

12:53 P.M.

Sorry about the abrupt cut-off last night, but the door was suddenly opened and two men in white suits forced me to take medicine that they said would help me sleep.

Of course, they were wrong. I mean, when have men in white suits ever been right about anything?

Anyway, they forced me to put you away for a while, and I eventually fell asleep. When I woke up (thankfully not by Malfoy), I was forced to once again go down to the Dinner Hall and eat across from Malfoy (an activity I had avoided several times by saying that I did not feel good around each meal time). It, the food that is, what actually pretty good. French toast, bacon, oatmeal, and eggs just like Mrs. Weasley and my own mother used to make.

Only, as you can probably imagine, Book, it did not taste as good as it would if I had been sitting across from, say, Ron. Or Harry.

Hell, anyone other than Malfoy and that food would have tasted a thousand times better.

He just _sat _there, eating angrily and giving me dirty looks. Malfoy did not say one damn word to me throughout the entire meal, and I was completely fed up because only yesterday he had tried to kill me. Although, I admit, what I did next was completely childish, and slightly suicidal.

I started laughing, because the image of him ripping up carpet and lighting it on fire appeared in my head and I could not control myself. Now, you must know that Malfoy has, for several years, been a skilled Occlumens. So he, of course, in a way, read my mind. He saw the image.

And he lunged across the table; eggs, bacon, French toast, and oatmeal flying everywhere.

But Malfoy did not start strangling me, no. What he did was much, _much_ more traumatizing. Pinning me to the floor, he looked me straight in the eyes and... well, _kissed _me.

Now, I don't know how long he has been in here, and I don't know what exactly he is here for, but I do know that it must be a very long time and for something very, very rational. Because, honestly, he truly is insane. In all my time knowing sodding Malfoy there has never been any sort of _longing _for him in any way, shape, or form, except one of killing him with my bare hands. I thought the feeling was mutual.

Unless he really is insane, like I was pondering only moments ago, the kiss tells me otherwise. I mean, why the hell would Draco sodding Malfoy, attention whore extraordinaire, kiss me? Huh?

Exactly. I have no idea why either.

It, the kiss, was one that preteens would experience at a party during a game of spin the bottle (not that I've ever been to one of those parties, mind you). Thankfully, extremely short because two white men (the same two that I have been seeing everywhere these past five days) picked him up and threw him off of me. Oh, but that's not the worst of it. No. Definitely not the worst.

They brought us both to my counselor (who turns out is Malfoy's also) and said it was _my _fault; that I was seducing him.

Hello! I am in these ugly white hospital robes, and my hair is a complete mess, oh, and I haven't put on any make-up. Just explain to _me _how the _how _I am seducing him! If I am, I am not aware of it. I mean, how could you possibly seduce someone that your only longing for has been to _kill_?

Huh? I'm waiting for an answer, Book.

Exactly.

But, apparently, because I am the more stable patient, I take all the blame. And that's pretty much exactly what my counselor said. He said that's why Malfoy lunged at me before, and that's why he did today.

Not good.

I also, Book, requested a ward change. I asked to be put in any ward other than this one, because this one is the same as Malfoy's.

Note to Dr. Princely: Burn in Hell.

September 27 1:09 A.M.

I just found out the date, so I decided to put it in this entry so I can keep track of life outside. My birthday was only eight days ago; I turned twenty-seven.

This is my mid-mid life crisis I guess. Same with Malfoy, who turned twenty-six this year.

Although, what possibly sparked this crisis, for both of us, I don't know. I think Malfoy is just insane and I am a misdiagnosis, but everyone disagrees. They say Malfoy is a mild sociopath. Uh, when did they start saying sociopaths came in different levels? I swear it was just you're either a sociopath, or you aren't. No middle ground.

Apparently, I was wrong. Because _Malfoy _is that middle ground. Of course sodding Malfoy would be the middle ground. I honestly wonder how much money they were paid to diagnose him as a _mild _sociopath.

It's not as if anyone but the people within this hospital and whoever sent Malfoy here know he's here and why. I mean, if it turns out that everyone knows that I am here, I'll probably just laugh, because they've always called me crazy. But if no one has heard about _this, _I'll be seriously ticked off.

He's Draco sodding Malfoy. Someone from the media needs to hear this information.

From an insider.

Me.

Oh, it's so perfect.

I will write in this journal, and send it to the press. It's pure genius.

Although... I would possibly look insane myself. But it would be worth it to soil the Malfoy name (not that they have a good reputation anymore).

Of course, I think that both Malfoy and I should be allowed to be released if compared to Harry. It's only because he's Harry "The Boy-Who-Lived-Again" Potter that people are refusing to believe there is nothing wrong with him.

I have mentioned this a thousand times before, but I will mention it again: HARRY IS INSANE.

End of story.

I'm not going further into detail about his obsession with potatoes.

September 27 4:20 P.M.

Someone, who shall remain nameless for the time being, has told me that the time 4:20 stands for something. What exactly is stands for, you can figure out yourself. I just thought, since it was that time, that I should write something about it.

It sounded like a good idea a few minutes ago anyway. When I was really bored.

Although, you might like to hear about my group session today.

Do you want to know what happened, Book?

(Again, I am talking to a book.)

Anyway, it was actually a normal session. Except, they moved our seats. I completely understand why... but, _why_?

If you must know they have put Malfoy next to me. Uh, I'd rather sit next to a rabid wolf than Malfoy. Seriously, are they trying to make me suicidal or something? I have enough problems already, according to Dr. Princely, and having suicidal tendencies would not be good. Not at all.

So, note to you, my counselor, GET ME AWAY FROM MALFOY.

There is nothing between us, and it will not help either of us in the recovery period. Not at all.

You'd think they'd get the hint when I tripped him when he was told to sit next to me, or when I took the elastic from my hair, placed it strategically between my fingers, pulled it back, and let it snap against the back of his head. Of course, they did not seem to get that hint either, so, as you can probably imagine, I was thoroughly ticked off and took a drastic step.

Right about now, I admit that pulling a chunk of his hair out was not a wise decision on my part, but whatever. The two seconds it took were fun.

The hour following, however, was not so enjoyable due to the fact I was sedated and put in a straight-jacket. Yeah, a _straight-jacket_. Who knew they even existed anymore? Not me.

So I was in this straight-jacket for an hour or two, sedated to the point I was seeing things, and I somehow managed to fall asleep at some point or another because the next thing I remember is being shook awake by Dr. Arsehole (also known as Princely). They unbuckled the straight-jacket, and took me back to my own padded-room and to you. Yay!

Note the mock enthusiasm in that exclamation.

Not to offend you, Book, but I'd much rather prefer to be with Ron, Harry, and Ginny at the moment, not y—

September 28 7:44 A.M.

Yeah, the whole biting thing?

NOT attractive.

I hate you; get over it.

Don't stare at me like that either. I will NOT be threatened by a bloody book... a book that happens to bite... Okay, so you got me there. I guess I can be nicer. I guess...

So I've got nothing more to write for now...

Lalalala...

Being in a mental institute, I've learned, is pretty horrible. The food? Horrible. The rooms? Horrible. The air? Horrible. The people? Horrible.

Now Malfoy's arse? That, on the other hand, is wonderful.

Whoa. Did I seriously just write that...?

How could I, Hermione Granger, ever find Mudblood-Hating Draco Malfoy attractive?

Maybe I do belong here after all.

October 4 5:08 P.M.

It's just after dinner now.

I apologize for not having written in here for such a long time, but Dr. Princely found that he needed to analyze the contents of this journal more thoroughly. As of now, I have been officially diagnosed with an adjustment disorder. He explained it to me as a "disorder differentiated by the development of emotional and/or behavioral symptoms." Some of these symptoms include: anxiety, depression, social conflicts, or physical complaints.

Yeah, whatever, just let me out of here. Now.

Seriously, I've been diagnosed, so cure me! There are pills for _everything _nowadays.

Want to be happy? Take a pill!

Want to be sad? Take a pill!

Want to sleep? Take a pill!

Want energy? Take a pill!

So I've been sitting in my room waiting for my pills to arrive, but none have come so far. I hear the nurse giving all the other patients _their _medication, so where's mine? Where are my release forms?

Seriously.

I went to group therapy, as usual, and we were forced to get into pairs and talk to each other about our lives outside of St. Mungo's, and why we were here. I told the group counselor to shove a book where it did not belong if he even considered putting me with Malfoy.

So, of course, he paired me with Malfoy. And I was forced to, yet again, socialize with Malfoy, who only talked about himself the entire time and fell asleep when it was my turn to talk. Not that I minded. I was planning on telling him about my life as a professional escape artist, but he must have known how that is a dull story.

I tried not to listen to why he was here at St. Mungo's, but I knew there needed to be more than just the sociopath thing going on. And I found out. Yep. I did.

Psh. Don't think I'm telling you, you stupid biting book. Yeah, that's right, I called you _STUPID._

Get over it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, Bo—

October 5 5:55 P.M.

Did you honestly think that biting me would help you get your way?

Think again then.

The only way you'll get it out of me is if you can find an English teacher with a fear of symbolism. So that means NEVER.

_I'll never tell... I'll never tell..._

Okay, I'm scaring myself right about now.

Speaking of phobias, I found a book containing the names for every known phobia in Dr. Princely's office. And I took it. Yeah. I _took _it.

And I didn't ask.

Anyway, I've decided that I have Atychiphobia. Which is, of course, the fear of failure. And I've decided Malfoy, yes, Malfoy you twit, has Phengophobia. You can figure out that Phengophobia is the fear of sunshine or daylight by looking at his skin.

Yes, I do have a lot of time on my hands. I _am _in a mental institute after all.

October 7 4:32 A.M.

No, the time is not a typographical error. That is the correct time.

I just have not been able to sleep, so I decided to bother you.

Anyway, I met this girl, Ammallia, and she has severe Anglophobia. Which is very ironic, because we do happen to live in England, and I know for a fact she was born in England. So _how _she has fear of England or English culture, I do not know. And there is also a girl with Kathisophobia, which is the fear of sitting down, in case you did not know, Book.

Although, you _are _a book, so I should not have to tell you things like that. On the other hand, you are a _biting _book, so I don't think those same rules that apply to normal books apply to you.

Thinking is much to difficult...

October 7 12:18 P.M.

So... you proved me wrong...

In a way...

You probably did not cause it...

No... you did not...

I mean, you're only a bo—

Okay, stop being so immature. The biting thing _seriously _has to stop. There is only so much biting a girl can take before getting seriously injured. You could cause some serious damage!

Back to the point, and yes there is a point. There is always a point. Don't stare at me in that incredulous way. THERE IS A POINT!

One that I'd rather not make, but a point nonetheless.

You've won.

You proved me wrong.

This morning an old man was brought in, and old Hogwarts professor that had left to be and English professor at Oxford.

And you'll never guess what phobia he had.

Go right ahead and guess you egotistical prat of a book.

That's right, he has Symbolophobia.

Don't gloat.

Stop it.

I mean it.

Oh, Book, get _over _yourself.

---

**Author's Note:** And that concludes chapter two of this completely stupid fan fiction. I apologize to the readers of my other fan fictions, but this was pretty much already written, I just felt it would be good to update. I'd like to say that, yes, I take full responsibility for being insane, so go right ahead and blame me for being the cause of this crazy story.

I really, really want to thank all of my reviewers, though. I got more reviews than I _ever _thought I would.

Chapter three already has a title AND a four step program to go along with it. Be sure to check my profile sometime in the near future to see it.

Once again, I do not blame you if you feel the need to hit me over the head with a frying pan. But, if you feel the need to leave me a review, I would not mind that one so much. ;)

Leii.


	3. How to Kill a Malfoy

**Author's Note:** I know what you're saying. "Took you long enough!"

I admit, took me way too long for such a short chapter. And I apologize profusely for it.

I finished this chapter just minutes ago and checked it over about two times. I hope you like it and it gets you to read chapter four, which is already about three pages long. And quite amusing I should add.

This one, _a little _bit more serious, still completely random because this story has no plot line whatsoever.

I hope you enjoy it. Leave me your feedback!

Lee.

**The Uncensored, Unedited, Unpredictable Diary of a Crazed Muggleborn Bookworm**

**Chapter Three- How to Kill a Malfoy**

**How to Kill a Malfoy: A Four Step Program to Rid Your Life of That Stupid Attention Whore**

**By: Hermione Granger**

**Step One**

Watch him closely for a few days, specifically during Group Therapy sessions, where he, of course, sits across from you. This will help you learn his weakness.

**Step Two**

Once you have figured out a weakness, corner him and tell him that you "know" and that you are not afraid to use it against him. This will, hopefully, cause him to cower in fear and listen to your every command.

**Step Three**

When he is at his highest state of fear, strike.

**Step Four**

If, and _when_, Steps One, Two, and Three fail, do not even bother to start over (and also do not attempt to use the other Step Fours, because those, as you may have already learned, help you in no way whatsoever, except get you into more trouble). There is only one last thing to do. Put simply: all sharp objects are now weapons.

---

October 8 3:14 a.m.

Okay, so I admit, I'm not as smart as people think I am. Actually, I'm quite dumb with things that I have not read in books or been taught in school. Like common sense. I have HORRIBLE common sense. I should KNOW that attacking someone with a sharp object, in a mental hospital, will not get you anywhere. Except into a straight jacket. And more counseling.

Not to mention that I attacked bloody MALFOY, their beloved patient. I swear, if they could, the entire staff would MARRY him. It's quite disturbing.

And there is a knock at my door. I'll be right back. I hope.

Unless it is some killer here to get me because I attacked Malfoy... Okay, okay, I'm GOING... I'd think you _wouldn't_ want me to die...

5:57 a.m.

So I didn't die.

Don't laugh at me!

Don't BITE me either!

Yeesh, you really need to stop that. First of all, no one believes you do it, which makes me seem even more insane than they already suspect. Secondly, it HURTS.

Don't stare at me like _I'm_ insane.

Okay, so I AM talking to a book, named Book, but whatever.

So...

Oh, I forgot to tell you who was at my door. You'll never guess...

How did you do that?

You are a BOOK, not a mind-reader...

Yeah, it WAS Draco Malfoy, thank you for ruining the surprise.

And, yes, I did leave my room with him.

Oh, _and_ I killed him.

7:00 a.m.

Okay, so I lied. I did not kill him. Although I have imagined it several times while here, I did not actually go throw with it. Except that one failed attempt... But anyway, I know I cannot _physically _kill him without ending up in Azkaban. However, I can _mentally _destroy him. It should be easy, because he is already mentally unstable, hence why he is here.

Back to leaving the room.

Yeah, okay so he kissed me again. And yeah I enjoyed it.

But that does not make me insane so don't give me that disbelieving stare once again.

After he helped me escape my imprisonment, we strolled down the hall. He explained that he did not want me attacking him with sharp objects any more.

Yeah, cause that's going to stop me.

I reminded him I was in a mental hospital.

He reminded me that he also was.

"It's not attractive at all to attack someone with a piece of paper, screaming "DIE YOU BASTARD!" Nor is a piece of paper that sharp of an object," he said.

"It was sharp at the time," I replied.

"You gave me two _paper cuts_."

"And I bet they still hurt like a bitch."

He scowled. "Yes, actually, they do." He held up his hand, still visibly scratched. "Kiss it better."

I cocked my eyebrow inquisitively. I had never been asked to do something so childish. Well... Ron did several times, but it's Ronald Weasley I'm talking about there.

"You heard me," he said. "Kiss. It. Better."

I took his hand and brought it to my lips, 'kissing it better.'

He smirked. "Thanks," Malfoy said as he took his hand back. "Now follow me."

And after following him down a labyrinth of hallways, a staircase, passed a row of vending machines, behind a portrait, through a tapestry, around a rather sharp corner, passed a cage of bunnies, and through one final door we had to crawl through, I thought I was free. The dark night sky hanging above me, stars sprinkled here and there. Trees placed by nature, stretching what looked like miles from where I was standing.

"Don't get too excited there, Captain," suddenly said Malfoy. "There's a fence if you go far enough. And a myriad of magical monsters to herd you back here."

"You know because...?"

"I tried. The first night I was here."

I walked several feet away and sat on the grass, legs crossed Indian style.

"I figured maybe some air would make you less likely to want to kill me," he said, sitting next to me, several feet of grass separating us.

"To be honest," I said, "It makes me want to kill you more." He gave me an incredulous look before I added, "For not telling me about this place earlier."

"While you were busy plotting my demise and writing in that terrible journal of yours, I was here."

"You forget the part when I was busy making sure everyone thought I was insane," I mumbled.

"Is that how you got in here too?" he asked.

I cocked my overly bushy eyebrow, which had become overgrown because I had been stuck in a mental institute without any form of a spa in it. "You pretended you were crazy?"

"After the war, no one would pay attention to me," he said, his voice gone somber.

I rolled my eyes. I knew, Book, I knew where this story was headed. About how he was the _poor _Malfoy boy left with no family. About how he helped the right side in the end but no one acknowledged it.

About how, in order to get recognized, he stormed in the Ministry and went right into Kingsley Shacklebolt's office and demanded to be the Minister of Magic. How he deserved it! How He threatened to injure himself, holding his own wand to his head! How, when the Minister refused to back down, he cursed his own mind. How, after the curse set in, he ran around the Ministry like a monkey throwing poo.

But the story he told me was unlike the one I had heard from other remotely sane patients who assured me it was the truth.

"One night I got severely drunk and Apparated to someplace I can't even remember," he continued. "And went into a Muggle bar. I drank some more, started talking with the stupid Muggles that were amazed by my 'magic' card tricks. Of course, use of magic in front of Muggles is illegal, so sooner or later the Ministry showed up. But while they tried disarming me of my wand, I sent a few drunken curses into the air."

"Who'd they hit?" I asked.

"They obviously hit me, you nit-wit," he snapped. "I woke up four days later here. Supposedly I had woken up and attempted to strangle the first person I saw. The second person was hit with several curses they are now in a coma for. The third person is no longer a man. And the fourth person... well he wasn't even lucky enough to keep his life."

My eyes went wide. I was sitting here chatting with a KILLER! GET ME THE BLOODY HELL OUT OF HERE!

I jumped to my feet. "You KILLED someone?!"

He slowly got to his feet. "I didn't mean to! I don't even remember doing it!"

"That means that you could just 'not remember' how you chopped me into pieces and hid me under the floorboards!"

"There are NO floor boards at this place," he said. "Trust me, I checked before I brought you here. No, what I have planned for you, you're probably gonna wish I HAD cut you into pieces and hid you under the floor boards."

And with that he closed the space between us, grabbed me by the shoulders, and kissed me. Hard on the lips.

Book, you know what, I must really deserve to be here, because I kissed the murderer back. I sodding wrapped my arms around the sociopath's neck. The slayer wrapped his own arms around my waist. The bloody psycho let it go on for a while.

When I say psycho, I meant me.

As we broke apart he started laughing madly. And I was sure he was going to pull out a knife worthy of Michael Myers and stab me 14 times.

Obviously he didn't, or I wouldn't be writing in here, Book. I mean, no offense, but if I was bleeding all over the place and about to die, the first thing I'd do would not be come and tell you what happened. I'd go find someone with actually authority.

And someone that wouldn't try to bite me to hurry my death. Cause that's exactly what you'd do. I know it in my bones.

Back to Malfoy laughing like a maniacal idiot.

He did it for a good twenty seconds straight, in which I backed about five feet away.

"You, Granger, are probably the stupidest person I know," he said, still slightly laughing. "I mean, I tell you a lie to make you sure I'm completely insane, and then you let me kiss you. I admit, I should be here, but until now I was pretty sure you were sane. I told you I KILLED someone, and you played tonsil hockey with me. Now I know you deserve those padded walls."

My mouth gapped. HE LIED TO ME!

"YOU LIED TO ME!" I exclaimed. I know, original.

"Of course I did," he said. "No one but me knows why I'm really here."

"Okay Mister I'm-Going-To-Curse-Myself-Unless-You-Give-Me-Power," I mocked.

He furrowed his brow. "You believed THAT story as well?" he asked, "You REALLY deserve those padded walls then."

"So why are you here?" I questioned. At this point I was thoroughly pissed off. Swear to god my hair was on fire and my eyes were burning red. At least, I wish they were. You know how nice that would be? That would keep Malfoy and his soft lips away from mine.

Don't giving me that look again, Book. I've had enough of it to last me the night. Bloody hell, I'd rather you biting me than giving me that look.

YOU DIDN'T NEED TO BITE ME INSTEAD!

That's just harsh. Don't take my words so literal.

I mean, I am in a mental institute. That obviously means that no one takes my words or actions seriously.

Other than Malfoy.

This is just pathetic, seeing as he is in here too, and about ten million times more deranged than I am.

I mean, he bloody kissed me.

Whatever happened to him must have ruined his mind completely.

This is why I should not let him kiss me.

What happens if he has something that could like... suck the sanity out of me?

Somewhat like a Dementor, but instead sucks the sanity out, not the soul. Actually, that'd be pretty nice. That would explain a majority of the problems Harry has.

What with obsessing over the welfare of potatoes and everything.

The night he started acting that way, he HAD been out for several hours missing... Maybe he was attacked by these Sanity Snatchers?

I'll need a library to research this.

And some lip gloss.

Man I miss lip gloss.

Imagine if I had some of that lip gloss that tingles when Malfoy kissed me?

I now give you permission to bite me, Book.

Thanks.

I appreciate how deep you made sure to make the marks this time.

And to kind of tear apart my skin. Nice touch.

I'll only need to go to the NURSE'S STATION NOW.

You're such a dickhead, Book.

1:09 P.M.

I hate you.

No I really do.

I'm going to find a way to destroy you.

So I don't have to look at your ugly cover any longer.

You have been the cause of this entire mess.

I could be out of here by now if I didn't have to write in you, and if you didn't BITE me.

I admit, I gave you permission, but I wanted more of a nip than a gash. You're covered in blood because of it I hope you realize.

Now you look like a journal belonging to the Bloody Baron. What a hoot that would be to read.

"_Dear Diary, today I stabbed the love of my life. After realizing how horrid it was to stab my own love, I stabbed myself. Now I am a ghost that is covered in blood. The end."_

Not exactly an exciting read if you ask me.

I'd much prefer to read the new cookbook Harry Potter has released onto the market. I borrowed a copy from the Nurse's Station when they were trying to bandage and heal this battle wound of mine.

It's about potatoes.

Not the battle wound, obviously, you bleeding caused it; I'm talking about the cookbook.

Every single recipe is a new way to cook potatoes.

It's dedication page... to his potato garden at home... and me. At the very bottom, there is my name.

"_Also, to Hermione Granger. Who is more insane than we thought she was._"

He never did have a way with words. More of an I-Am-Going-To-Kill-You kind of guy.

Could be worse. He could say I am at a ward for the emotionally unstable. He at least left it kind of open.

Although, I have a feeling word got out that the courageous Hermione Granger is institutionalized.

There are probably a handful of books out there dedicated to proving my sanity. Maybe also a handful proving my instability.

If I wanted attention, this was one hell of a way to get it.

Speaking of attention, you haven't tried to get out of me if I've seen the attention whore today.

In fact I did, and he laughed crazily in my face.

That's exactly what I need, for an insane person to laugh in my face.

I'm insane too; you don't see me going around laughing like that in other people's faces.

Throw me in a straightjacket and hit me with a baseball bat. I believe I legitimately just admitted I was insane.

Goddamn it, Book, why must you ruin every heartfelt moment of change by biting me?

I swear to God, I'm gonna do you in.


	4. How to Dent a Padded Wall

**Author's Note:** Please do not kill me. First of all, wow. It's been six years since I've updated? And second, be excited I rediscovered the next 5 or so chapters! Enjoy, and thanks for sticking by, or reading again, or reading it for the first time ever. Damn, I missed this fandom.  
**  
The Uncensored, Unedited, Unpredictable Diary of a Crazed Muggleborn Bookworm**

**Chapter Four- How to Dent a Padded Wall**

**How to Dent a Padded Wall: A Four Step Program to Denting Those Padded Walls Which Keep You Imprisoned**

**By: Hermione Granger**

**Step One**

Pick up biting book. And yes, it has to be a _biting_ book.

**Step Two**

Anger it in some way that makes it bite. An ideal way of doing so is telling it that it does not deserve to be a book. Nor does it deserve to somehow have teeth to bite with. Admit to it that you are about to end its ungodly life.

**Step Three**

Anger it further than just biting. Make it shake with anger. You can do so by telling it how much you would like to burn it, threaten it by saying you have a book of matches waiting in your pocket.

**Step Four**

Launch it at the wall when it is just about to bite. And watch it tear apart the padding.

October 12 5:57 P.M.

I received my new diary from Dr. Princely, who was very shocked to first of all see the bite taken from the padded wall. What shocked him further was to see Book lying torn apart beneath the wreckage.

Yet the arsehole thinks I, lover of books, did it.

He dared to suggest that I, Hermione Jane Granger, tore apart my precious Book AND took a bite from the padded wall.

Cause I definitely wanted a mouth full of padding.

After several more sessions alone with him, telling of my life as a pill-popping widower, he concluded that I needed a new one of you.

I'm not naming you though.

And if you bite me, you'll go the same way as Book did, let me tell you straight out.

I will not be taken advantage of by my own diary.

And I'm gonna stop talking to you now, cause you're not interesting like Book was.

9:43 P.M.

So maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to flick potatoes in Malfoy's face.

And _maybe _it's wasn't too smart to casually stroll away as if I did not do it, back to Malfoy.

Cause now my back is covered in pudding, and no one will allow me to change my clothing, while Malfoy got to take a shower.

They told me I need to learn to behave.

Gave me a speech that I was twenty-seven and could no longer act five.

Oh please, I was _at least _acting like a 10 year old.

Bloody hell, Ron would still do it to Harry, because Harry would fill with rage and exclaim that none of us knew how to properly treat potatoes.

That's another story I shall not get into. For Now.

After being forced back into my padded wall, that has a spot less padding than it did a week ago, I found you. Lying open.

Along with a page torn out.

So I suggest you step up your game, nameless. PROTECT YOURSELF!

If I find out who did it, I'm going to let THEM burn you.

Mostly because I could never bring myself to actually set a book on fire.

Imagine how bad my room would smell.

Book would never have let anyone touch him that wasn't me. Even when it _was_ me he bit me most of the time.

Seriously, I have never written in such a boring journal. You are so boring.

Don't make me repeat myself.

Fine. You are boring.

The most boring book I've ever—

Oh so now I've got a SPITTING book?

Fucking great.

October 28 4:54 P.M.

I decided not to write in you for several weeks due to the fact I still cannot accept you spit at me.

Where do you get the spit from anyway?

Never mind, I don't want to know.

But, you know, you could have spit in the face of whoever tore a page out.

I mean, that would be the logical thing to do while under attack.

And no I'm still not naming you, so stop giving me a glare worthy of Book.

I did him in and I could do the same to you.

Somehow.

Maybe find a way to drown you in your own secretion.

That would be amusing to me. To watch a book drown.

I can imagine the sputtering now.

Oh don't you bloody spit on me again. I can tell you're considering it.

Not cool. Not cool at all.

Whether or not you remain in existence is mine to decide. And right now I'm about to drown you.

So life just isn't in your favor at the present time. I advise you to be very wise with your next move. Especially if it involves spitting at me once more.

I will now once again make an attempt at this wall. It's been bothering me for about four days now, since that is when the chunk of padding removed by the now deceased Book was replaced. I had been staring at it, and all at once I realized.

ARE YOU A WITCH OR WHAT?

Bloody hell, I'm so idiotic at times.

**How to Dent a Padded Wall: A Four Step Program Designed to Assist You in Beating the Ever-loving Shite Out of Those Bloody Padded Walls From Hell**

**By: Hermione Granger**

**Step One  
**Remember, you are a Witch (or Wizard, bah), and you do not need a wand

**Step Two  
**Brace yourself, grab all objects not bolted to floor

**Step Three**  
Pause.

**Step Four  
**Expel all energy and magic from within

November 12th 8:00am

Apparently, padded walls can be quite useful. I believe they saved my life. ALL HAIL THE GREAT PADDED WALLS!

Yes, nameless, just keep laughing. I'm investing in a shredder the moment I leave here.

Tremble more, I need the power trip.

As I was saying, before you rudely interrupted me.

Ahem.

Oh god, I'm going to end up a cat lady. Terrible realization. Changing the subject now.

These past few days, I've been heavily sedated following an episode that ended with heavy injuries sustained to my person. Shattered elbow, mild concussion, a bit of flesh missing from my shin, and my other foot broken in three places. One must admit, the potions used for pain management are of a different variety than Muggle medication.

I have never been so high in my life.

What's that, nameless? You hear that paper shredder coming closer too?

Fuck, man, don't spit anymore. Gross. Actually, on second thought, keep going. I could probably get myself another dose if you continue and I develop an infection.

Fiending? I've been on drugs TWO measly days, and there is no way I could be hooked already.

…

Right?

Merlin, I'm going to be a drug addict cat lady, scrounging up change from the couches of homes I break into, horde of cats behind me. Hmmm… An _army_ of cats.

I have officially found my calling in life.

10:37 am

That did not go as planned. Dreams now shattered, just like my elbow.

Laugh once more, I dare you.

You think it's just _hilarious_, my dreams comparable to such things. Well, good sir, I must say that I cannot blame you, really. It is quite funny I almost blew myself up.

The best part is how not a single thread was broken or frayed. Damn wall and its damn fabric.

ALL HAIL THE GREAT PADDED WALLS!

11:02 am

I know one mustn't be redundant, but Draco Malfoy must die. Along with you. In the shredder you both go! Goodbye!

I cannot believe within two minutes of me going on a bathroom break you opened yourself up and divulged my inner most thoughts to Draco Sodding Malfoy.

Wonder if I could convince him to change his name to that legally. It has a nice ring to it.

"Dear Draco Sodding Malfoy,"

"Introducing: Draco Sodding Malfoy, Worlds Most Ferrety Ferret"

"Welcome to the most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy, Draco Sodding Malfoy is pleased to have you here"

"Would you please pass the bread, Draco Sodding Malfoy?"

"Wanted Dead or Alive: Draco Sodding Malfoy"

11:58 am

Overlooked flaw in brilliant plan: "Signed, Draco Sodding Malfoy"

Thanks, Draco, for that wonderful, further dream shattering observation. I'm going to tear your eyeballs out.

Now that I am aware you have been reading this most private journal of mine, I must inform you that by touching this book, you have now gained plus one hundred and six experience points. You may not pass go or collect 200 dollars.

If you are interested in how you gained such large amount of experience at once, I must now inform you of the curse I placed upon the journal in your hands. Muggles know it as fibromyalgia, and it rages through their world unstopped, incurable. You have four days to live. Upgrade quickly.

Fibromylgia +106 exp.

12:08 pm

I am commandeering this journal. Hello, nameless, nice to finally meet you. I hope you live up to the legacy of your predecessor. The work Book had completed on Granger was absolutely brilliant, truly an artist.

You. Beaver.

I was assured by the nurses this fib-reo-whats-it is not a contagious illness among Wizards, but in the jeans of Muggles. I see no denim, therefore I find it highly unlikely you have contaminated me whatsoever. Other than you existing within the same hemisphere, of course.

Also, I will, in fact, be passing go and collecting 200 dollars. Not that it matters, I don't need to be told by some strange top hat wearing old swine when and where I can collect any form of currency. It is all in my bedroom at the Manor. Some days I swim in it, like that silly old duckman, but I wear no suit.

Try getting that image from your mind.

Moving on, I will also accept the plus one hundred and six experience. I am now a Master Warrior Mage. I believe that beats your Cat Lady powers.

Sincerely,

Draco Sodding Malfoy


End file.
